


Salt

by fragiledrug



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragiledrug/pseuds/fragiledrug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock tilted his head minutely as he watched his Captain pour a rather copious amount of salt onto his French fries. He then proceeded to pick one up, drag it through a puddle of bright red ketchup, and pop it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. He did that two more times before realizing Spock was staring at him and paused with a French fry halfway to his mouth. Some of the ketchup on the end of the fry dripped off, landing on the table with a quiet splat that was likely inaudible to anyone who didn't have the keen hearing of a Vulcan.</p><p>"Something up, Mister Spock?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt

**Author's Note:**

> Using 750words.com to keep my writing muse active. This is the result of today's session, with the prompt "salt".

Spock tilted his head minutely as he watched his Captain pour a rather copious amount of salt onto his French fries. He then proceeded to pick one up, drag it through a puddle of bright red ketchup, and pop it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. He did that two more times before realizing Spock was staring at him and paused with a French fry halfway to his mouth. Some of the ketchup on the end of the fry dripped off, landing on the table with a quiet splat that was likely inaudible to anyone who didn't have the keen hearing of a Vulcan.

"Something up, Mister Spock?"

Spock's eyebrow lifted sharply. "Up, Captain?"

Kirk grinned and set the fry down, leaning back. "Yeah. Up. You were staring at me."

"I was simply curious as to the way you are consuming those French fries."

"Want one? They're vegetables. Well, technically potatoes are a starch, but they're really good."

"I have consumed French fries before, Captain."

"Jim," Kirk corrected automatically. "We're eating lunch together. I think you can call me Jim."

"Jim," Spock repeated, a bit haltingly. The blond was still grinning.

"You've never consumed French fries the way I season them."

"I assume you are referring to the amount of salt and ketchup you have added?"

"Mmmhm." Kirk picked up the French fry he had set down and popped it into his mouth, taking a moment to chew before he picked up another, dragged it through the ketchup, and held it out to Spock. Spock eyed the offered fry speculatively.

"Captain--"

"Spock."

"Jim. If I take this one, will you cease attempting to feed me supposedly 'new' items?"

"Probably not."

Spock had to suppress a sigh. "At least you are honest."

"Right? It's one of my better qualities."

Deciding it was better not to dignify that with a response, Spock reached out to take the French fry, only for Kirk to jerk it back with a shake of his head.

"Nuh-uh. C'mere."

Spock felt his eyebrow raise further, but he rose smoothly and moved around the table until he was able to settle back down directly next to Kirk. There was something different about the Captain's grin but Spock didn't have enough information to say what the difference was or what it might have meant. Kirk held the fry out again. Once more Spock reached to take it, and Kirk jerked it back.

"Nope. Open your mouth."

This time both eyebrows went up. "Pardon?"

"Hands down. Open your mouth."

Spock stared at Kirk for nearly a minute (49 seconds to be exact) before he compliantly opened his mouth, ignoring the embarrassment that was flaring up inside himself. Kirk leaned forward and placed the French fry ever so gently on his tongue. As he pulled back, he very obviously intentionally brushed the pads of his index and middle fingers over Spock's bottom lip, leaving behind a trail of salt. Kirk watched him expectantly as he closed his mouth, chewed and swallowed, analyzing the flavor and texture. Spock's tongue darted out of its own volition to chase the residue of salt on his lip and he realized, with a heated jolt, that he could taste the essence of Kirk's skin along with the salt. The Vulcan flushed, and if the way Kirk's eyes crinkled along the edges was any indication he hadn't missed the tinge of green that suffused Spock's skin.

"Good?"

"It is... palatable."

"Why can't you just say it's good?"

"I believe I did."

A French fry abruptly flew across the table at Spock. He let it hit his shoulder and fall onto the table.

"You're no fun. Say it's good."

"It was palatable."

"Good, Spock."

"Palatable."

"You are the most irritating person I have ever met."

"I find that highly unlikely, considering you have an acquaintance with Doctor McCoy."

The laugh his quip earned cause warmth to bloom in his core, and instead of pushing it down like he should have, like a true, proper Vulcan would have, he let himself feel it, let it take over temporarily. He knew he was flushing again but he found he didn't care in the wake of how bright Kirk's eyes were (the bluest blue, a hue he hadn't known was possible in human genetics -- but then, Kirk was an anomaly in many ways) and how wide his smile was. They ate the rest of their lunch companionably, and if their hands brushed when they deposited their trays, Spock pretended not to notice.


End file.
